


Dead of the Night

by SquigglyAverageJoe



Series: IjustreallywanttofindawaytowriteaboutredemptionandshitandIhavemanyfanficideas. [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: And I feel like Vaggie and Charlie are the type to think that, Because I Mean Vaggie’s Dead Y’all, F/F, Healthy Relationships, Holding Hands, It might be just me but I honestly think hand holding is one of the most romantic things, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Drug Addiction, Past Relationship(s), Sharing a Bed, Something about it is just so tender and sweet, These Two Are Saps For Each Other And You Can’t Convince Me Otherwise, This was supposed to be published for Valentines Day, a couple can do, and then I started researching the death penalty for school, and then it was a birthday present to myself but I didn’t finish it then either, because I wanted to focus on Nome, but I have it done now and this deserves to be shared with the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquigglyAverageJoe/pseuds/SquigglyAverageJoe
Summary: Vaggie and Charlie have a moment.
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Series: IjustreallywanttofindawaytowriteaboutredemptionandshitandIhavemanyfanficideas. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107536
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Dead of the Night

One of those nights.

Vaggie sighed and turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling, but kept her hand where it was, running her fingers through her girlfriend’s hair. Usually, the action helped her get to sleep, and when Charlie was upset, it comforted her—however, this time, Charlie was not upset, she was asleep.

Vaggie guessed _she_ was upset.

She turned on her side again—and Charlie sighed, dark eyes opening to look at her. “Vaggie...?”

”Sorry,” she said. “Go back to sleep, hon.”

”You’re still awake,” she said, voice soft, tired—she hadn’t meant to wake her up. She continued to soothingly stroke Charlie’s hair. “Is something wrong?”

”Just thinking.” Even in the darkness of their room, Vaggie could make out Charlie’s long hair, slender frame, pointed little nose—even in the dark, her beauty shined and almost blinded her. Fuck, Vaggie had never been _this_ in love.

...Well, maybe she had—but this healthy love was a different sort—she could _feel_ the difference, now that she’d experienced both. There was much less self loathing, much less bruises. “Do you want to talk about it, Vaggie?” She asked.

She exhaled slowly through her nose. “...I think dying was the best thing to happen to me,” she said, softly.

”Oh, Vaggie,” Charlie said—she grabbed onto her hands and squeezed gently, lovingly.

”It really was,” she said, laughed softly, humorlessly. “I spent all my life, trying to make it... _better_. I... wasn’t a good person, hon.”

”Because you did drugs?” Charlie asked. “And drank?”

”No,” she said. “I... I was a monster of a teenager. Fought constantly with my siblings. And I mean...Laura was terrible to me, but I wasn’t the greatest girlfriend, either.” She sighed. “It’s... a good thing I died, I think.”

The funny part was that no one had seemed to know what to do with her when she died—at first she had been in Heaven, but she hadn’t quite belonged there. Faintly, very faintly, she could remember someone telling her in the gentlest voice they could muster, these sorts of things _happened_ sometimes. So many people died, so many souls—it was hard to keep track of who went here, and Vaggie just... hadn’t belonged up there.

She didn’t think she had belonged in Heaven—but she wasn’t sure she belonged in Hell either. She hadn’t been a good person in life, but she had been the average sort of bad. She hadn’t ever killed anyone, hadn’t raped anyone—she had just been kind of a bitch. “It’s easy,” Charlie said. “To forget you weren’t always down here.”

”I wish I could forget,” Vaggie said—her afterlife was a thousand times better than her life had been. She couldn’t fight with her parents or her siblings, she had a healthy, steady relationship with her girlfriend. She wasn’t going to be graduating with a degree in business anytime soon, no, but things were good for her, down here.

”It feels like I’ve known you my entire life.” Charlie squeezed her hands again—one hand let go, to hold the back of her neck, tracing gentle little circles into her skin. “And that’s saying something.”

”Yeah,” she breathed. “You’re old.”

”Tell me more,” Charlie started. “About your childhood. I like learning more about you.” And that was the things with them—they knew a lot of things about each other, really—like Vaggie knew Charlie sang in the shower, could belt out entire albums, and thought holding hands was the most romantic thing ever, and she knew exactly how the ends of Charlie’s hair felt wrapped around her fingers when they slow danced in their room, when the mood struck Charlie and she just wanted to hold Vaggie, soft and close and warm.

She thought about it for a moment—Charlie must have took her silence for reluctance. “I know you ate a lot of sea food,” she said. “I know you had three siblings—two little sisters, and one younger brother, Sofia, Mia, and Julio, right? And you drank coffee every morning with your mother, but you hated coffee and you always spoke about school and stuff, and you hated those conversations.”

”Yeah,” she said. “...I wasn’t planned,” she started.

”Like me?” Charlie asked.

”Yeah—like you.” She had heard her parents argue late at night—she hadn’t been wanted. They had spoken when she was in the room, either thinking she was too young to understand birth control, or not caring if she heard. “My mother desperately wanted me to marry a mechanic, because both her and my father didn’t even know how to change the oil.” She sighed. “I used to sneak out, late at night and hang out with my friends—we’d go to a local park, and drink _Kolashampan_ while we watched the sun rise and bitched about our parents.”

”Rebel,” Charlie mumbled and she smiled.

”Honestly, sometimes, I think they knew I snuck out—I’m just not sure they cared.” She sighed, a short puff of air while she stared at her girlfriend, but even now, she could feel the gold light from the sun on her face, even in the darkness of their room, the early morning chill. “Or maybe they did—they might have been trying to give me some privacy or something.” They had done things like that—poor decisions they made, trying to be better parents, trying to make her happy or trying to bridge that gap between them. “It’s hard to tell, you know?” This felt a bit heavy. “I _really_ liked papaya.”

Charlie smiled. “I’m not surprised. I mean... I’ve had papaya before, it’s good.”

”Papaya is good.”

”It is.”

Charlie nestled closer. “I feel selfish, but I’m... glad you’re down here, I think.”

”It’s not selfish,” Vaggie said. “Because I’m glad I’m here. Really—Hell’s supposed to be a place for demons to suffer, but this...This isn’t really suffering. I mean...It’s not like, a pleasant place to live, to be, I mean...” She felt her face heat up. “They always told us demons were bad—but you’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met, Charlie. You’re good.” She sighed and continued to stroke her hair. “And your hair is so soft. That has nothing to do with how much I love you, but I like it, your hair is very soft.”

”It’s heavy,” Charlie said. “I don’t know how you manage. Like, when you get your hair wet, it must be so heavy, I don’t know how your skinny stick legs can hold yourself up.”

She frowned and rubbed her calves together—yeah, her limbs were kind of bony, but. “I thought you liked my skinny stick legs.”

Seriously, Charlie looked at her, hands still gentle on her skin. On her worse nights, Vaggie could remember her ex-girlfriend and the way her hands felt on her skin—when she got like that, she was never as much a fan of Charlie’s touch, but moments like these just reminded her that Charlie would never hurt her. “I _love_ your skinny stick legs,” Charlie said. Vaggie smiled, but she continued. “And I love your skinny stick arms. I think you’re beautiful, and while you’re still really skinny, I know you’re healthy and that you just have a different body type than me—and I love it. I love you, you’re beautiful, I love you.”

She pulled Charlie even closer, until she could feel her breath on her lips. “I love you too, Charlie.”

“No, really,” Charlie said. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and smart, and you’re nice to me. You can be slightly overprotective, but I know you just want to take care of me. And I love you. I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Vaggie remembered Laura could make the world melt away—with her smiles, with her tender words, and even with her shouting. She could make everything else irrelevant, and then she’d be so focused on her, no after what else was happening.

But Charlie was her exact opposite—she could make the world melt away, really, but she didn’t—she just made the world look and feel that much better. She made things that much better. It never felt like Vaggie was losing focus on anything else, it just felt like there was something else to focus on—no matter what, at the end of day, she could look forward to lying in bed and holding her girlfriend close, but she could look forward to other things—and maybe that had just as much to do with how healthy her current relationship was as it did the headspace she was in, because she was in a very good place right now.

...As good a place you could get in Hell. The funny part was that that was better than it had been _not_ in Hell. Vaggie shut her eyes. _“Eres el amor de mi vida después de la muerte,_ Charlie.”

They went quiet for a moment—Vaggie could hear Charlie breathing next to her, before she asked, voice still soft, “Hey, Vaggie?”

”Yeah, hon?”

”Can you teach me some Spanish one of these days?” She asked.

“I’d love to.” She sighed and looked at Charlie for a moment, but her eyes were shut—she settled for pulling her close enough to tangle their legs and press her face into her neck, skin warm to the touch. “But let’s sleep for now. And I’ll teach you curse words in the morning.”

Charlie giggled. “Curse words?”

”Charlie, that’s the first thing anyone ever tries to learn when they learn a new language.” Charlie giggled anything. “Maybe one of these days, you can teach me one of those... Hell languages.”

It was easy to fall back asleep, with Charlie this close to her, her breath ghosting over the top of her head, her body warm beneath the blankets. She could smell the shampoo in Charlie’s hair, glinting in the very little light of their room, yellow and still really fucking soft. 

It was almost kind of sad that dying was the best thing to happen to her—but things could have been so much worse, and really, she was just glad to have something good like this, even in death.

Especially when Charlie made her feel more alive than she thought she had ever felt.


End file.
